Reckoning

by J. B. Turner

  “Can I make it up to you?”

  His wife screwed up her eyes in mock indignation. “This better be good, Mark. And I mean you gotta hit this out of the ballpark.”

  “You always wanted to go to Europe, right?”

  His wife turned and arched her eyebrows in surprise at the kids. “What does Dad have in mind, I wonder?”

  “How about Italy? Lake Garda next summer for a full two weeks. Does that work?”

  His wife bit into her pizza. “It works.” She looked at her watch. “I think it’s too late to get a flight home tonight, though.”

  “Stay tonight, grab a few hours’ sleep, and then I can finish this goddamn project and get home to you in New York as soon as I can.”

  “You’re incorrigible, Mark, do you know that?”

  The following morning, bleary-eyed after a restless night, Mahoney sent off his wife and kids at the airport. There were tears, hugs, and no small amount of sadness. But he needed them out of the way. Things had gotten out of control. Dangerous.

  His mind was processing so many thoughts as he struggled to comprehend how he was going to extricate himself from the mess he was in. Maybe he should just go to the cops. It would be the easiest way out. Perhaps the most logical.

  But something within him begged him to think of his family. He was a naturally cautious person. If he was torn between choices, he usually did nothing.

  He drove back to his apartment, showered, put on a fresh suit, brushed his teeth, flossed, and washed his mouth out with Listerine after the booze and pizza from the night before.

  Mahoney headed into the office. Made some small talk at the water cooler. Then headed to his desk.

  Waiting on his desk was a small unopened package marked Private & Confidential, Mark Mahoney. He waited until the other reporters were out of sight before opening it up. Inside was a brand-new iPhone with a note containing a number. Scrawled in ink were the words Head to the bathroom, make sure no one else is there, and call this number.

  Mahoney’s heart was beating fast. He tried to act natural as his fellow journalists dropped by his desk to chat about everything from the weather to the Blue Jays. Eventually, once he could see all the reporters were back at their desks, he headed to the bathroom with his new phone.

  He made sure no one was in any of the stalls, went to the farthest one, put down the lid of the toilet, and locked the door. Once the cell phone was activated, he tried to dial the number. But his hand was shaking so badly he misdialed. He tried again, hand still shaking, and managed it on the second attempt.

  Mahoney waited. It rang five times.

  “I was wondering when you were going to call.” It was the voice of Nathan Stone.

  Mahoney felt ice in his veins. “So where do we go from here?”

  “This is how it’s going to work between me and you. First, if you don’t do what I tell you, you will die. Either by my hands or someone else’s. Second, your apartment is bugged from top to bottom. And the cell phone you usually use is being monitored.”

  Mahoney closed his eyes as a feeling of dread washed over him. He wondered if Stone was telling the truth. Was this just a trap to lure him to a location and then kill him?

  “So the only safe way for us to communicate is via this phone. Am I clear?”

  “You’re going to kill me whatever I do, aren’t you?”

  “Not necessarily.” Stone let the words linger in the air.

  “Are you fucking with me again?”

  “No. You’re going to help me, and I’m going to help you.”

  Mahoney cleared his throat as he dropped his voice to a whisper. His mouth felt dry. “How am I going to help you?”

  “You’re going to give me the addresses of those people on the list like Clayton Wilson, the men who hired me to kill you.”

  “Why would that be of interest to you?”

  “You’ve got to trust me. I want to help you. I have something you want. Namely, a chance to live. To get back to your wife and kids.”

  “So why do you need the addresses?”

  “They have my sister.”

  “Your sister?” It sounded weird that a cold-blooded assassin even had a family. Much less one he cared about.

  “My older sister.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Her name is Helen Stone. She was in a psychiatric hospital. But they took her. And they said I wouldn’t see her again unless I neutralized you. That’s what this comes down to.”

  Mahoney felt sick. It was then, in that moment as he was gripped by indecision and fear, he realized, as unlikely as it might have seemed, there was a connection between them. He wanted his family to be safe, while Stone wanted the same for his sister. They both needed the same things. He began to wonder if he shouldn’t take a step back from the investigation. Was it really worth all this? His family meant everything to him. But it was clear that Stone felt the same for his own sister.

  “This is all starting to sound a bit unbelievable,” Mahoney said.

  “It is what it is. I’m not lying to you.”

  “I don’t know . . . This is a lot to take in. OK, here’s a question. If you just neutralize me, as you called it, you’d get your sister back. Why not kill me and be done with it?”

  “Because I don’t believe their word means a damn thing, Mark.”

  Mahoney could see what Stone was thinking. And it terrified him almost as much as the idea of Stone killing him.

  “They double-crossed me before. They called in a shadow team to take me out when the Crichton job went south.”

  “So what are you planning to do?”

  “More like what are we planning to do.”

  “Nathan, what are you talking about?”

  “You’re going to accompany me for a few days while I take care of every one of them.”

  “‘Take care of’? What does that mean?”

  “You want me to spell it out? I’m going to kill each and every one of them.”

  “Kill who exactly?”

  “The people who sent me. The Commission, as they call themselves.”

  “I’m a goddamn journalist . . . Are you insane? That’s not what I do.”

  “Mark, listen to me. It’s an easy choice. Your only chance of survival is to stick with me.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  A silence stretched between them. Eventually, Stone spoke. “Then I’ll have to kill you myself.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Nathan made the call to Mahoney from a diner. He suspected his apartment was bugged, perhaps even filled with cameras. He knew his own covert plan was at a critical phase. Mahoney could very well just go to the Feds or the police and get his family into witness protection. And that would leave Nathan and his sister at the mercy of the Commission. But there was another element to the plan he was about to embark on.

  He returned to his apartment and saw he had three messages on his “official” phone. He listened to them. All from his handler.

  Nathan switched on the TV showing Mahoney’s empty apartment. Then he called his handler on the phone he’d been provided with.

  “Stone, thought you’d turned tail.”

  “Yeah, good one. Not quite.”

  “Where you been, bro?”

  “Just watching our guy. Checking what he was up to.”

  “The wife and kids turning up was not good. But they seem to have dropped off the radar. Said they were heading back on the first flight out. We checked, and they did. All very weird. And he seems to be going around without his cell phone.”

  Nathan cleared his throat. “It’s OK. I was watching him the whole time, don’t worry. The guy was at a pizza joint.”

  “With the family out of the way, I’m thinking you’ve got a clean shot at this. Time to take him down.”

  Nathan could tell his handler was getting antsy. The man wanted Mahoney neutralized sooner rather than later. It was a difficult balancing act for Nathan. His parallel operation needed more t
ime and space. But he also needed to persuade his handler, through some misdirection, that the plan to kill Mahoney was imminent. “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. I think it’s vital that it looks like an accident.”

  “You want to elaborate?”

  “I’d considered just saying that we wanted him to resign and not pursue the investigation. But that got more problematic and messy as I thought it through. I’m not convinced he would necessarily stick to that. I could see him agreeing to scrap the whole thing, resign from his job, but then privately take everything he knew to the FBI as collateral and protection for him and his family.”

  “I think the time for talking about blackmailing him has come and gone, and now it’s all about deleting him.”

  “That’s my gut feeling. I think it’s best, now that his family is out of the way, to just get to it.”

  “OK, that works. Today?”

  “I think so. After observing him and listening to him, I can see this is a smart guy who was rattled by this incident. But I think he’d be a thorn in our side if we didn’t delete him completely. If we tried to silence him with the blackmail, we couldn’t guarantee it would work. But with a fatal heart attack, he’s out of the game.”

  “I’m with you on that.”

  “It could be the Times pursues the story with what they have. But I’ll find out what he knows before I get rid of him.”

  “I think you’re right, Stone. The fact this bastard managed to keep it together and not tell his wife and boss means he is going to tough it out. Or try and ignore it.”

  “I say I do him tonight. He either jumps or he’s pushed. What’re his plans today?”

  “As far as I know from his calendar, he’s in his office.”

  “I’m going to wait till later this afternoon, after his maid cleans up, then get in there and wait for him.”

  “Fantastic. Get some fresh air, bro. Relax. Then when you’re ready, head on over. And let’s get him done. Then we can finally get you back home—and your sister too.”

  Nathan had a shadow plan for the operation. A plan so out there it unnerved even him. He had crossed a line. And it felt good. He had resolved to save Mahoney. And in turn save himself and his sister. He couldn’t see any other way out of it.

  He showered, put on some clean clothes, headed out, and left the cell phone they had given him in his apartment. He pulled out his new cell phone and installed a little-known virtual private network for anonymity when surfing the net. Then he downloaded the Tor browser bundle. Within two minutes, he was up and running on the dark web.

  He immediately downloaded a hacker app called locatethisprivatenumber. Then he entered the cell phone number of his handler. A few moments later, it spit out the handler’s GPS. It showed it was registered in the name, likely fake, of Clive F. Neilson Jr., of Remex Solutions, Toronto.

  The shadow plan was under way.

  Nathan saw from the GPS that the man was half a mile away. He bought a pair of shades and a Blue Jays hat from a street vendor and walked to the location, a glass high-rise office building.

  He went into the huge lobby, where a young receptionist smiled his way. “Hello, sir, how can I help you today?”

  “I’m here for an interview. Remex.”

  “That’s on the fourteenth floor, sir. Do you want me to buzz ahead?”

  “Thanks anyway, but they’re expecting me.”

  The receptionist pointed to the elevator.

  Nathan rode up to the thirteenth floor. He walked down a corridor and headed into a bathroom. He made sure it was empty. Then he pulled out all the paper towels and stuffed them in one of the trash cans. Then he took out a lighter and set it all ablaze. Before long, the fire began to take hold.

  He placed the trash can underneath a smoke detector and headed out into the corridor. A few seconds later, a piercing fire alarm and flashing red lights wailed out across the building. Almost immediately the offices emptied as workers pushed past him.

  “You need to get your ass out of here, man,” a young guy said.

  Nathan nodded. “Sure thing.” He headed up a flight of stairs to the fourteenth floor and walked toward the door with the name Remex on it. He kept on walking past it.

  He heard the sound of a door opening behind him. He turned and saw a man, tattoos covering his arms. Nathan recognized the guy immediately from his time in Scotland. He remembered those tattoos from his earliest days at the facility. The guy was always with Sands, his original handler, the one who had betrayed him. So he had to have been the deputy handler on the Scotland job. Nathan couldn’t remember the guy’s name. But that didn’t matter. In an instant, his Glock was in his hand and his finger on the safety.

  Nathan crept up on the guy as the door shut. He pressed the Glock to his head. “Not a fucking move!”

  The guy froze.

  “You got a security swipe card?”

  The guy nodded.

  “Nice and cool, swipe it and go back in.”

  The guy complied, swiped the card past a scanner. The door clicked open and Nathan pushed him inside.

  “On your fucking knees!”

  The guy nodded and did as he was told.

  Nathan frisked the guy’s jacket pocket. He pulled out a gun and a cell phone, which he put in his own jacket pocket.

  “Stone? What’s going on?”

  Nathan kept the gun trained on him.

  “You need to realize this wasn’t me. I had nothing to do with taking your sister. I’m just a working guy like you. Trying to earn a living.”

  Nathan pressed the gun tight to the man’s forehead. “OK, this is how it’s going to work. I want the names and numbers of the men who are behind this.”

  “I don’t know that.”

  “So here’s the thing. I can make it painless. Or I can make the last moments of your life wretched.”

  The guy scrunched up his face. “I’m just following orders. We’re just supposed to take down Mahoney.”

  “What else?”

  “Swear to God . . . we gotta have him neutralized and out of here in seventy-two hours. Those are my orders.”

  Nathan pulled out the man’s phone and pressed the home button. “What’s your pass code?”

  “Stone, please, this is—”

  Nathan pressed the gun even tighter into the man’s scalp. “I’m going to count to three. And then you die.”

  “022101.”

  Nathan tapped in the numbers and the menu appeared. He recognized 22101 as the zip code of the CIA at Langley. He pulled up the contacts and saw there were only six, including the psychologist, Berenger. “Does this have the contacts of those involved?”

  The guy nodded.

  “Are these specially allocated cell phones?”

  “Yeah, everyone that works for us has a specially encrypted phone.”

  “You need to update your security, my friend.”

  The man was breathing hard, red in the face. “What do you want, Stone?”

  “I got a question for you. One question. If you can answer it, you live.”

  “And if not?”

  “Then you die.”

  The fire alarm seemed to be getting louder. “What do you want to know?”

  “Where’s my sister?”

  The guy kept his head bowed and began to moan. “Richard Stanton knows about that I think.”

  “Where’s she being kept?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you have a code name for me for this operation?”

  The handler groaned but said nothing.

  Nathan pressed the gun tighter to his head. “Tell me.”

  “Plastic Man.”

  “How very original. After the work I had done on my face.”

  The handler nodded, head bowed.

  “Neat.”

  “Nathan, believe me, I had nothing to do with what happened to your sister.”

  Nathan looked around the open-plan room with big screens on the walls, blinds pulled down.
“So this is your nerve center. Is this where you see what Mahoney is getting up to?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And me?”

  “No.”

  Nathan didn’t believe him. “Where are they?”

  “The Commission? They were down in Florida . . . but they meet all over the country. New York too.”

  Nathan scrolled through the messages. “Tell me about Clayton Wilson. What’s his code name?”

  “Patriot One.”

  Nathan could see the members of the Commission had been given a unique name with a number from one to five. “How do you usually communicate with him?”

  “Always encrypted message.”

  “Always?”

  “I swear.”

  Nathan scrolled through the text messages. “Clayton likes updates, I see.”

  “Likes to be kept abreast of what we’re doing. Sure. Progress. Short and sweet.”

  “Tell me about the second facility in Canada.”

  The guy sighed. “It’s impregnable. You’ll never get near the place.”

  “I never asked you that. Did I ask you that?”

  The handler closed his eyes tight, as if fearing a bullet at any second.

  “I just asked you about it. Describe it. What goes on there?”

  “Look, it’s secure. They’ve upgraded everything to biometrics and retina scans, etc., etc. Trust me, it’s a fortress.”

  “They said the same about the facility in the Outer Hebrides. You remember what happened there?”

  The guy said nothing.

  “What’s the purpose of this facility?”

  “Just like Scotland, this is a black site. Owned by a private corporation.”

  “Plausible deniability.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “What else do you know about the place?”

  The guy got quiet again.

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  “I heard there’s a big operation planned. That’s all I know, bro.”

  “An operation planned within the facility?”

  “I don’t know. That’s just what I heard.”

  “So you’ve been there?”

  “No. A guy who works there said they were on lockdown for the next week. That was a day or so ago.”

  “So for the next six days they’re on lockdown. Why?”

  “You know how it works, Stone. I don’t know. He doesn’t know. He just knows something’s going to go down.”